[Ashburn's POV]
It had been two months since the sixth evaluation began, and every single day felt like a thread I was carefully weaving into something bigger. The air of Ashrock City was changing—summer mornings came with a dry breeze that carried sand, and at the same time, a strange calm that told me life was quietly moving forward.
I woke up early, as usual. The house was still half asleep. Mother was already in the kitchen, the smell of paratha and tea spreading softly through the rooms. Sami's school bag was lying open on the sofa—he always forgot to pack his notebook.
"Again?" I sighed with a small smile and packed it for him.
Running two shops, planning a third, and setting up a new product line… it was a lot. But after everything that had happened, after every long night with ledgers and delivery sheets, I didn't want to slow down now.
---
Khan General Store One had been renovated from top to bottom—wide glass counters, proper lighting, and digital billing. It almost looked unrecognizable from what it once was. And Khan General Store Two was running at full rhythm with Aisha's organized system.
Aisha had a sharp eye for numbers. She had reorganized delivery routes, saving thousands in fuel every week. I often found her in the store office, surrounded by order lists, her hair tied up neatly, a focused look in her eyes.
"Don't forget we have to recheck the supplier list today," she reminded me when I came in that morning.
"I know," I said, taking a sip of tea. "Also, I finalized the spot for the third branch. Near Sami's school—it's a growing area. Families moving in, new houses… perfect for steady demand."
She looked up, her expression softening. "That's a good choice. And… Sami will get to see your shop every day."
I nodded. "That's the idea. Maybe it'll remind him that everything I'm building… is also for him."
Aisha smiled faintly, then returned to her lists. "You've changed, Ashburn," she said quietly.
"How so?"
"You used to rush decisions. Now you think twice, even for small things."
I chuckled. "Guess the world slowed me down a bit."
---
By afternoon, I was on my bike heading to the new site. The third branch location stood at the corner of a developing block—half-built houses, a small playground nearby, and the sound of children laughing somewhere down the road. I could almost see the shop already — wide aisles, a bakery corner, colorful displays.
As I stood there, a light breeze carried sand across my shoes. I smiled, imagining the board shining above the entrance: Khan Mart — Branch Three.
That name still made my chest tighten a little. It wasn't just business anymore; it was my father's legacy stitched into something new. I wanted him to see it grow beyond the small counter he once manned.
Kainat arrived a little later, her white dupatta fluttering in the wind. She had come from the community kitchen, a bit tired but still smiling.
"So this is the new spot?" she asked, walking beside me.
"Yeah. What do you think?"
She looked around thoughtfully. "It feels… right. Not too busy, not too quiet. Families around, schools close by. You've got good instincts."
"Or maybe I'm just lucky," I said with a grin.
She shook her head. "No, Ashburn. Luck doesn't build two shops and a supermarket in a year."
I laughed softly. Her confidence in me always felt like fuel.
We talked for a while about decorations, storage, parking space — and then about nothing at all, small conversations that somehow made the work feel lighter. Before leaving, she handed me a small paper bag.
"Snacks from the kitchen. You forget to eat half the time," she said.
"Maybe I'm just testing my self-control," I replied teasingly.
"Don't," she said simply. "You'll lose."
---
The factory site was another story. It was a large area just outside the city, near the industrial zone where the dry wind never seemed to stop. I had signed the paperwork last week, and though only the boundary walls existed for now, I could already picture the small machines, the packets of roasted pulses, the hum of productivity.
It was still a risk — a big one. But if it worked, it would make Khan Mart something beyond retail. It would make us producers, creators of our own brand.
Sometimes, late at night, I still caught myself staring at the old ledger I used to keep in the first shop — the handwritten accounts, ink stains everywhere, and margins full of doubts.
Now everything was digital. Orders came through screens. Vans left on time. The system — my secret — silently monitored it all. But no one knew that part, and no one ever would.
All they saw was Ashburn, a young man working too hard and smiling too little.
---
That evening, I finally returned home, exhausted. My father was sitting on the veranda, listening to the radio; my mother was talking to our neighbor through the gate; and Sami was drawing something on his school notebook.
When he saw me, he jumped up. "Bhai! Did you buy the place near my school?"
I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"
"Teacher told everyone a new mart is opening there!" he said proudly. "I told her it's my brother's!"
I laughed and patted his head. "Then I guess I'll have to make it perfect now, huh?"
"Of course," he said with a grin.
Dinner that night felt unusually warm. Kainat and Aisha had joined us — they were practically part of the family now. The table was full of laughter and teasing. Mother kept scolding me for working too much, while Father nodded approvingly between bites.
"Let him work," he said. "That's how a man builds his name."
"But not at the cost of sleep," Kainat added gently.
Aisha smirked. "You tell him that every day. Does he ever listen?"
"Not really," Kainat admitted.
I looked between them, pretending to be serious. "You both make it sound like I'm impossible to deal with."
Sami giggled. "You are, Bhai!"
Everyone laughed, and for a moment, all the worries faded.
---
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I stood by the window, watching the quiet city lights. From here, I could almost see the horizon where my future was taking shape — the supermarket, the new branch, the small factory waiting to be built.
It felt peaceful, but in that peace, there was purpose.
Five months ago, I had dreamed of running just one good store. Now, I was holding the threads of a growing empire — still fragile, still uncertain, but real.
And as the desert wind brushed against the glass, I whispered to myself, "One step at a time. That's how we build everything."
The night answered with silence — the kind that made you believe it was listening.